


Keep My Mind A-Singin’

by MroBeta



Series: Back to the Era when the Swing was King [1]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Dark, Gen, Implied Sacrifice, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Joey’s not a good man, Sammy and Jack are buds, because that’s all I ever write, may become part of a series, though it’s not made obvious, what happened to Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 10:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14669604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MroBeta/pseuds/MroBeta
Summary: Jack Fain was a man who just wanted to work in peace.He couldn’t hear the music if there was more noise distracting him.





	Keep My Mind A-Singin’

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I don't want to go jumping into any new fandoms, especially at this time of year, I'm gonna hold off writing for a while
> 
> Also me: *throws as many of my headcanons as possible into this oneshot for a minor character*
> 
> I just love writing character fics. I wanted to make one for this guy 'cause I haven't seen many for him on this site. So, enjoy!

Jack Fain often considered it lucky that he actually found a quiet place in the studio to work. Granted, it wasn’t ideal, and it certainly wasn’t convenient. If it meant he could write lyrics without the constant noise and chatter filling his mind, then he didn’t care. He couldn’t hear the music if there was more noise distracting him.

He listened to the songs in his head as he wrote. It was why he preferred to stay in the quiet - once Jack picked up the melody he could play it back over and over in his thoughts, until the words started to flow with it. Occasionally he would pick up the fiddle in his office and play it himself. He couldn’t be as good as the music director, but he had some talent - and really, that was all he needed. As he travelled the studio, there would be praise for the music in the cartoon, and the lyrics that came with it. Both Sammy and Jack were able to bring the cartoon to life in that way. Jack was good at his job - but he couldn’t do it right if he stayed upstairs. He learned to cope in the sewers instead.

He rarely stayed upstairs long enough to hear news from the other employees nowadays.

So he was surprised when, on one rare occasion, Jack heard the sound of another worker wading through the ink. The studio’s janitor, Wally Franks, used to come to visit every so often before the ink machine was installed. When the machine made its appearance, it was like the atmosphere in the whole studio changed. It felt darker, more dangerous and more chaotic - it wouldn’t have been Mr. Drew’s idea otherwise.

“Joey wants to see you in his office,” was all they said before the splashes started retreating, Jack taking a moment to watch them leave. That was new. Why would Mr. Drew want to see him now? His first thought was that he was being fired - but there weren’t that many lyricists on the job market.

Only one way to find out, anyway. Taking his hat and resting it on his head, Jack made his way through the tunnels, up the staircase and out through the currently empty infirmary. He received a few passing glances from employees not used to seeing him. He ignored them, as he felt uneasy by how quiet it was for once. The band wasn’t playing, the members talking to each other with instruments in hand. The projectionist gave Jack a suspicious look from the booth above him. He seemed just as concerned as he was. Jack hesitated and kept on walking, until he reached his boss’ office.

The first thing that wasn’t right, Jack noticed, was the smile that Joey Drew gave him as he entered - a rare sight nowadays. He may spend his time in the sewers, but even he knew how upset Joey was when Henry left. Joey took out much of his anger on the employees afterwards, and his impulsive decisions grew further out of control. It wouldn’t have been surprising if Henry was the only thing keeping Joey calm. It was a shame that he left - Henry had seemed like a nice guy in the few instances that Jack got to talk to him. A little overworked, if anything. Perhaps that had been what pushed the former animator to finally quit.

Joey’s smile didn’t falter as he rose from his chair to meet him. “Ah, Mr. Fain! Great to see you here. I trust that you are handling the latest work?” he said, the friendly greeting catching the lyricist off guard. He was expecting a sudden berating from his boss, or even a simple cold farewell, not... whatever _this_ was.

“...Yes?” he finally said, hand on the doorknob in case a quick exit was necessary.

“Good, good! I knew you could, of course. I saw the spirit in you as soon as I hired you! But that’s not what I called you here to talk about. I’d like to discuss a new opportunity with you.”

Now this was interesting. And suspicious. “Opportunity for what?”

“For promotion, of course! At the very least, some more recognition. You _are_ one of the music department’s most valuable members. It would only make sense to give you a better role.”

“Are you suggesting I join the band? I may be able to play, but I wouldn’t say I’m _that_ good-“

Joey quickly cut him off with a wave of his hand, “No, no. Think _more_ than that, Jack. Think conductor. Maybe even director! If you’re willing to take it. You’d get your own quiet office to work to your heart’s content!”

This intrigued Jack. He was just a lyricist, but there was a chance he could excel as a music director. And the prospect of a work area out of the sewers was tempting. But then again, that could mean...

“What happened to Sammy?”

“Nothing to be concerned about. He took a break for a few days, no more than that.”

That would explain the quieter atmosphere. He already missed the music department’s main composer. His songs always had some bounce, and the energy could be infectious - but if he needed a break, then it was understandable. Joey moved around his desk to stand in front of Jack, staring at him in anticipation.

“Sounds great, doesn’t it? Of course, if I were you, I would take it. We can have the arrangements ready by tomorrow. Do we have a deal, Mr. Fain?”

A hand outstretched, Joey waited for the lyricist’s acceptance. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t come for a while. Jack wanted to give himself time to mull it over, and he got it.

Over time, Joey would regularly call Jack up to his office to talk. They discussed a lot of things: the cartoons, the ink machine, Joey’s offer... All things that unsettled Jack. He didn’t think much of it. Not until he walked into a dark and empty office one evening - what the hell is going on now _wait is that a pentagram_ \- only to hear the door lock behind him. He didn’t remember what happened next. There was pain, and then melting - _what’s happening to me, Sammy?!_ \- nothing but blackness, and then...

Screaming. Constant screaming. Voices crying out in the darkness, surrounding him, reaching for him and it was so loud, so painful and it _hurt it hurt it hurt so much_ too much noise can’t think can’t _remember_ need to escape _need to leave!_

He was trapped in a void of constant buzzing for so long - _how long has it been since Joey spoke to me?_ \- that he couldn’t remember when he got out, or _how_ he got out, but he pulled himself out of the ink into the underground sewers. And it was _quiet_. He found a hat ~~_his hat_~~ on a desk and he took it with him. He liked it - he didn’t know why but he didn’t want to leave it behind. He couldn’t stay out of the void for long - the ink and the voices always pulled him back down - but he struggled to pull himself out every time. He hated it down there, it was painful and he was so _scared_. He couldn’t remember who he used to be.

Three days later, Sammy Lawrence trawled through the studio, demanding to know where his best lyricist had gone. But even down in the sewers, there was nothing left of Jack Fain but half-finished lyrics, a violin and an old hat floating on the ink.

Meanwhile, inside the bubbling ink, a former man tried to hold on to what he used to be. All he had left was a hat and a single thought, that kept him from screaming and lashing out at everything near him. That he repeated in his mind over and over until the words felt like a part of him.

_Just gotta keep my mind a-singin’._

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment with any criticism, or any of your own headcanons! I'd love to hear them.
> 
> I might make similar oneshots for the other Bendy and the Ink Machine characters at some point, because all of this is really intriguing. Also, I apologise if my Joey is out of character for any of you - I'm still trying to get a grip on writing most of these characters.


End file.
